Fireworks on the Mountain
by Secret Snoopy
Summary: Ralph and Jack go up the mountain alone. Jack has some unrequitted love to take care of. What do YOU think might happen? Heh heh.


Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies. It belongs to Sir William Golding. So there.

Author's Note: Jack, deep down, could be a good person. I don't believe that, but for the sake of this fic I'm pretending I do. Also, I'm not following the book exactly. I mean, all the implications are there, but instead of being stark naked, Ralph's at least wearing shorts, and the dialogue is slightly changed, simply to suit my fic.

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**Fireworks on the Mountain**

(Jack's POV)

This pig would impress Ralph. It has to! Do you have any idea how much effort I put into capturing it? All of my mental capacity, that's how much. I just cannot bear butchering another living thing. But if I don't, then what good use am I?

Now, we have adequate food. Not only food, red meat! I couldn't wait to tell Ralph how I caught it. He's bound to like me more. Then maybe, maybe... someday I can tell him. I can tell him how beautiful he looks when the sun hits him, or when he smiles at me. I can tell him how much I love him.

Ralph pounces from the beach when he sees me leading my tribe out of the forest. How correct I am! He's as excited as I had hoped he would be!

"Look!" I grin at him, holding the newly killed pig carcass up for him to admire. "We got one!"

He seems to pay no attention to my offering. "You let the fire go out."

Oh right, that fire, that oh-so important fire. What's the use of it when there's nothing to cook with it? I let his comment roll off my back and continue with my story. "Oh, you should have been there! We were all—"

"You let the fire go out."

The repetition begins to unnerve me. Does he even appreciate my work? Does he think the pig hunt was easy? Or even fun? I don't think he comprehends the level of skill I demonstrated.

"Oh, well," I begin to blush inadvertently. "We can light it again-"

"There was a bloody ship!" Ralph screams. "We could have been saved! If you and your stupid hunters didn't let the fire go out, we could be going home now! You were stupid to run off and chase pigs."

His last remark offends me. How dare he insult my actions? I did it for him! I did it to make him happy! I... I did it to make him like me. Doesn't he know that though? Of course not. It's always about the fire, always about salvation. Maybe I don't want to be saved. Maybe I want to stay on this island forever, with him. Back in civilization, my tastes are frowned upon, almost taboo. But here, anything goes. Without consequence, we get everything we want. I want Ralph.

He, however, is still angry. "How could you be so stupid!" He directs the question at me, the leader of my rather incompetent choir.

The rage he expresses is troubling. I have to admit though, even in his angry state, he is still the fine specimen of a young man that I have quickly fallen for.

"I'm sorry," I say finally, but with only the purpose to please Ralph. I hand the plump pig carcass to Roger, who flashes me a menacing smile.

"Come on, we can go relight it together," I offer to the fair-headed boy casually.

Still fuming, he hesitantly accepts and we head for the mountain. Like a flock of sheep to a Sheppard, my pack of hunters begins to follow me.

I look back at them sharply. "No!" I cry out a little too quickly. "Everyone, everyone..." What is a suitable task for these half-wits? "Watch over the littluns. Don't begin the preparations for the pig feast before I get back."

They stare at me blankly, then shrug and turn back to the younger boys. I can hardly contain my excitement. I finally get what I want. I finally get to be alone with Ralph. Even under these circumstances, I consider myself quite fortunate.

"It was a stupid thing to let the fire go out," Ralph chastises me for the third time, like I'm an irresponsible child. "Don't do it ever again."

I say nothing back. The rest of the hike up to the mountain remains uneventful. He keeps a formal distance between us, which I interpret as disappointment. I was sincerely apologetic on the beach! What else does he want? It's not like I just ran off to chase a butterfly or something (though they are quite eye-catching). I got us the protein that will give us strength when we need it.

We reach the spot of the diminishing fire. It gives off a weak cough of smoke, and then loses its light.

"Quick!" Ralph yelps. On his hands and knees, he blows at the last remnants of the flame desperately, but his breath is too strong. The fire is gone.

He smacks the dry leaves in frustration and turns to me with an icy glare. "Well, the fire's gone. Now we have to work to relight it." He looks down at his hands, then to me. "Did you bring Piggy's specs?"

I shake my head regrettably. "It's cloudy. It wouldn't work anyway."

Ralph runs a hand through his hair, that gorgeous blonde hair. "Don't just sit there! We're going to have to make a fire without the glasses." He impulsively grabs two small twigs and begins to produce its friction on some dry leaves. "This is your fault! You should at least help me!"

Half-heartedly, I pick up a pair of sticks like he had directed me and mimic him. I'm not trying very hard though. Instead, I concentrate on Ralph.

I watch with unusual interest as a bead of sweat from his labours glides down his forehead, down to his neck, and is lost with its brothers and sisters on his chest. More sprout and I follow their progress as well. How I envy his perspiration. It should be I who... never mind.

He continues to work furiously at his task, paying no attention to what I do (or not do). I focus on his face. He grimaces in concentration while trying desperately to relight the fire. Ralph suddenly lights up when a trail of smoke flutters up into the air, a modest smile tugging at his lips. Then he's back to wincing again.

All the while, I'm watching, thinking of stroking his smooth skin on his neck, or letting my fingers run through his blonde hair. The urge to do so is almost overbearing.

Ralph catches my eye and flashes me a passive grin. The friendly gesture turns into a scowl, probably remembering what I had done recently, then quickly turns his attention back to the fire. Thank goodness, so he can't see me blush. Every time I catch that smile, I want to cry. He's beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

I can't help myself. The opportunity is perfect. It's finally time for me to make my move.

"This is hopeless," Ralph flings the two sticks back where he found them. He notices my face, a mere inch from his.

"Uh..." he stutters, backing away. "What do you think we should do now? I guess we'll have to try again tomorrow—"

"Ralph..." I call his name out without much cause.

He continues to crawl away on the heels of his hand, but he reaches the point where one more movement would send him falling to a certain death. This is perfect. I have him trapped.

"You're beginning to scare me Jack," Ralph whimpers. His eyes purposely avoid mine.

I wonder to myself what he might be thinking. Is he really that scared? Maybe he's playing hard to get. Either way, I'm game.

I make sure I enjoy the moment, as I've been waiting for it since day one. I let my fingers run up his arm. He shudders at my contact, but I don't let it discourage me. My hands approach his neck, the same neck I've always wanted to touch. I lean in and our lips meet.

"Mm!" Ralph begins to struggle, but not very convincingly. He pushes me back. "What are you doing?"

I grin at him, unfazed, and allow my hand to run up and down his back soothingly. He is desperately trying to catch his breath. I can feel his chest pumping vigorously, as I have my whole body pressed against his to prevent escape.

"Didn't you like it?"

He doesn't answer immediately. I take the hint and kiss him again. This time however, he does not physically oppose. My hand slides down to his torso and I slowly begin to lower his shorts.

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(Simon's POV) 

"They've been up there for quite a while," Harold comments, looking up to the mountaintop. "I don't see any smoke, and it's starting to get dark." He turns to his fellow castaways and asks tentatively, "Do you think anything might have happened to them?"

"Maybe the beast thing got them," Percival whispers, his eyes round with alarm. A few of his fellow littluns cry out in fear.

"Someone should check up on them," Bill suggests.

I sense the gaze of everyone fall on me. I survey my surroundings and my eyes confirm it.

"Me?" I yelp in surprise. "Why me?"

"Well, a littlun can't do it," Harold points out. "And rest of us..." he looks to his fellow choir members and nods. "We, uh, we need to follow Jack's orders."

I understand what's going on here. The littluns are too young and vulnerable. The biguns don't want to make the treacherous hike. That leaves me, as I fall comfortably in the middle. I guess I don't have much of a choice. I don't stand a chance against the biguns, who have apparently ganged up on yours truly to be made into an easy target for a whipping boy.

"Must I go alone?" I attempt weakly. I wasn't the only one who wasn't quite a young adult. There was Robert and Maurice as well.

"We can't spare anymore people," Harold tells me simply.

There's a reason why they select me, but not the others. It's because they think I'm batty. Maybe I am. I can never tell. It's true that I'm a little less stable than the others (with my fainting spells), but I don't necessarily see that as a major sign of weakness.

"...Are you going or not?" Roger approaches me, a spear in his hand. He taps it forebodingly on his palm like a baton.

Everyone is scared of Roger. Myself included. I think even Jack is a little hesitant around him. I scurry off into the forest before he can hurt me.

I playfully bounce around from bush to bush, embracing my solidarity. At last, I reach the long and narrow path up to the mountaintop. The walk up isn't as enjoyable as one might think. It's dangerous, with all the loose stones threatening to slip up your footing. I'm a little sceptical on whether or not it's worth my effort, since from afar there was no sign of Jack and Ralph.

Nevertheless, I descend up to the summit. Maybe it's the thinning air, but I feel a little light-headed as I approach the top. It seems like no matter how much oxygen I take in, my lungs still leave something to be desired.

I finally climb up to the mountain's peak. My breathing is rapidly out of control, and I stumble on a rather large rock. My body slams against the mountain wall (but I'm gracious I wasn't sent teetering on the opposite side) and I slump to the ground. My eyes droop and my head is throbbing with fatigue, but I don't lose sight of my mission.

Forcing myself alert, I inspect the area for the two boys despite my already declining visual ability. I blink and my eyes refocus. In the distance, I see a blur of brown flesh. Is that one of them? I certainly hope so.

I grope the wall for leverage and scuffle along the steep walkway. My strides are becoming slow and more deliberate. After what seems like an eternity of inching along the side of the mountain, I get within earshot of what looks like Ralph... or Jack?

"Oh, Jack... Jack!" I hear one moan loudly.

The voice is unmistakably Ralph's. Perhaps he is searching for our chapter chorister, but the tone he is addressing the other boy with leaves me in speculation. I continue to inch forward.

I reach a spot in the path where Ralph is blocked from my view by the mountain. The voices are becoming clearer as I get closer to the source. I quickly realize that Ralph is not alone. But if Jack is there with him, then... why would he have to call for him if he's right there? Then who is with him, if it's not Jack?

Maybe Ralph is in trouble! My pace quickens, and I finally navigate myself to the plateau, where I peer over the wall of rock. My heart lurches in anticipation.

My vision blurs again. I suddenly feel my chest become tight, and I begin to gasp for air again. It's Ralph all right. But it's Jack on top of him. The two bodies are moving in malicious, unmentionable ways. They're committing sin now, countless sins, in fact! The situation of shock and horror worsens my condition. I feel a faint coming on, and I pass out.

**The End**

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Author's Note: Wow, that was similar to my other R/J fic. Except different stuff, and yeah... so, why does Simon have to be the one to see this... sinful behaviour? (I don't know if it works that way but) So the last 'pure, good' boy won't be anymore! Mu ha ha! 


End file.
